


Memories

by LadyKailitha



Series: John's Adventures in Sherlockian Romance [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, M/M, PTSD John, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKailitha/pseuds/LadyKailitha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a couple weeks since they declared their feelings for each other, but they are still dancing around the subject. All it takes is a curious Sherlock, a breakdown at a crime scene, and a dodgy leg to make them realize that what they have is each other and memories are just that. Memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

When I woke up that morning, it dawned clear and bright and I felt happy for the first time in a really long time. Sherlock knew how I felt about him and I knew he cared about me. Or at least as much as someone like him could. I looked up and started. I scrambled for the sheets and sat up trying to cover myself.  
  
For standing above me fully dressed and ready to go out was Sherlock Holmes. "Sherlock!" I nearly screamed. He smiled down at me and I got the impression he often watched me sleep.  
  
"We have a case!" I looked over at the clock and it was barely even eight. I sighed and scrambled out of bed.  
  
He watched me as I gathered up my things for a shower. His eyes stayed on the scar in my shoulder. Even when I turned around I could feel his gaze on the exit wound. I sighed again and went into the bathroom and closed the door. Once on the other side I let my emotions show. I didn't like anyone looking at my scar. It brought back too many painful memories and here was Sherlock looking at it unabashedly. I leaned against the door and slid down it as the memories flashed across my mind. I closed my eyes but it only threw them into sharper relief.  
  
 _The memories flood my mind's eye, the sounds of helicopters flying overhead not quite drowning out the sounds of battle. I could smell smoke and blood mingling with the stench of burning. We were being fired upon, the sound of gunfire piercing the noise filled air. I could see my unit return fire. The flashing of the muzzles burned into my irises._  
  
 _A new sound filled my ears. I could hear someone calling my name. I concentrated on the sound and it was a voice I recognized as well as my own. My good friend, Sgt. Bennet. I searched frantically through the smoke and debris until I found him. I spot him in enemy territory. I look around but no one in my unit has seen him. I grab the gun of a fallen comrade and spray fire at the buildings the enemy fire seems to be coming from. I leap over a small wall and spray more fire as I slid to his side._  
  
 _"Shit!" The word is out of my mouth before I could stop it. The wound in his side is massive. I put pressure on it, holding down firmly as he looked into my eyes. "Oh, shit." I repeat. "Hold on, you'll be alright." I tell him._  
  
 _But in my eyes he sees the truth. He knows he isn't going to make it. "Tell Abigail that I love her." He's starting to cough up blood. I can feel his life leave him, I can see his eyes turn glassy. And like that he's gone. I grab his arm to drag his body away from enemy lines and back to the safety of our men. So he can be given a proper burial. In my haste to get his body away from the fire fight, I forgot to return fire._  
  
 _I'm running backwards. I'm at least smart enough to keep an eye on the enemy positions. I turn back briefly. I'm so close I can see the whites of my men's eyes. I turn back and that's when I feel a sharp pain rip through my shoulder. I drop my friend and I stagger backwards falling and hitting my head._  
  
 _Up above me I can see my unit surge forward to get us and the last thing I heard before the world goes black is, "Capt. Watson!!"_  
  
Tears slipped down my cheeks and I whimpered. I curled up on the floor and cried. It hadn't been too long however when there came a knock on the door.  
  
"John?" The voice wasn't irritated like I thought it would be. It sounded more concerned.  
  
"I'll be a minute." My voice was cracked from the crying but I didn't care just then. I sat up and wiped away my tears. I got changed and opened the door. My flatmate looked down at me, concern etched into his face like marble.  
  
"Not getting a shower this morning?" He asked the least sensitive question.  
  
"Not feeling up to it this morning. I'll get one when we get back." Sherlock merely nodded and led the way to Baker St. I glanced up at the sky and I could see despite it being sunny when I woke a storm was working it's way toward us and I shook my head. It was like the weather was attuned to my mood.  
  
We sat in silence as we made our way to the crime scene. I rubbed my hands together fitfully and stared out the window. In the mirror like image of the glass I could see him watching me, the concern never leaving those eyes. But I sat stubbornly in silence not wanting to talk about what happened this morning.  
  
We got to the crime scene and Lestrade explained to us the details. I looked down at my left hand in worry. It was shaking again. I frowned at it as Lestrade and Sherlock talked about the scene. I knew I should be listening but I couldn't concentrate.  
  
"John?" Lestrade looked at me worriedly. Even Sherlock did his "what?" expression.  
  
I just shook my head and walked away. After a minute or two I could hear the sound of hurried footsteps coming to get me. I reached up to grab the wrist of the man that was attacking me when I heard a surprised gasp.  
  
"John?" I let go like I had grasped something burning hot. It was Sherlock. And I almost flipped him over on his back. Well… maybe not. This was Sherlock, after all.  
  
I turned away to hide the embarrassment that now colored my cheeks. My hands went up to my face and my shoulders hunched. I was shaking so bad. Suddenly I felt warm arms wrap around me and slowly my shuddering stopped.  
  
"John?" He asked again. I leaned my head against his chest and just breathed in his scent.  
  
"Bad memories." I told him. He turned me around in his arms.  
  
"Is this about me looking at your scar this morning?" Brilliant, brilliant Sherlock. He got it right in one. I nodded into his coat. He cupped my face in his gloved hands and lifted my face up to his.  
  
What happened next I would have never have believed in a hundred years. His lips pressed against mine. And then he began kissing every inch of my face.  
  
"Sherlock!" I protested. "People might see!" I found myself struggling against his grasp.  
  
"I don't care John! And neither should you."  
  
"What happened to 'married to the job', 'emotional distant', 'not having a heart'?" I asked still trying to get away.  
  
"You happened, John," he whispered.  
  
And then without warning my knee buckled and down I went.  
  
"John!" Sherlock screamed as his hands made to grab my arms. Lestrade and Donavan came running.  
  
"What's going on here?" She asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
  
"John's hurt! Call an ambulance!" I wanted to tell him I was alright but I couldn't find my voice. My world was going dark. The last words I hear before blacking out was Sherlock and Donovan arguing.  
  
"Why don't you?" She sneered but Lestrade was dialing the number.  
  
"With what hand?" Sherlock snapped back he was still struggling to keep me on my feet.  
  
I awoke just before the ambulance came and I explained to the nice young men what had happened and they gave me something to calm my shaking body and let me sit in the back while I caught my breath. I looked at my hand again and it still shook. I clenched it and unclenched it, trying futilely to return it to normal.  
  
Sherlock and Lestrade wandered over and from the dark looks on their faces I knew I was in for some intense interrogation.  
  
"What happened?" Lestrade shouted, his brown eyes danced around angrily.  
  
"Yes John, what happened?" Sherlock's voice was quieter but no less intense. I preferred Greg's shouting to be honest. It didn't make me feel guilty the way Sherlock's coldness had.  
  
I looked back and forth between the two of them and sighed. I would have to explain or they'd never let me near a crime scene ever again.  
  
"Just my PTSD rearing its ugly head today. I'm fine, really."  
  
Lestrade rolled his eyes. "That's not what I asked."  
  
I looked up at Sherlock but got no sympathy there. "Today started off okay, but the memories hit me like a ton of bricks when I went to get a shower. And then I was arguing with Sherlock like I normally do and bam suddenly my world went black, I couldn't speak, and my knee gave out. Well, actually take that and reverse it. Knee gave out, couldn't speak, blacked out." I knew I was babbling but I didn't care. Just anything to avoid those piercing blue eyes.  
  
"So nothing out of the ordinary happened?" Lestrade asked. Again I looked up at Sherlock but I carefully avoided those eyes. He seemed to dare me to tell the truth. But I couldn't. Not yet.  
  
"Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary." Sherlock snorted disdainfully and stomped off, clearly upset. Lestrade followed his retreating back a moment with his eyes before turning back to me.  
  
"He's just worried about you. We all are." I nodded but I knew it was something else. I had hurt him. And judging from the wounded slump to his shoulders, pretty bad too. I sighed. I had been doing that a lot that day. I tried to stand but my knee buckled under me again. The EMT's ran over to me and helped me stand. They gave me a crutch to use and I limped off after Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock eyed my crutch as he hailed a cab. And this time on the drive home it was that Sherlock turned his face to the window. I clutched the crutch tightly to my chest and fought back tears.  
  
Sherlock had kissed me and my body spazzed out on me. I had never felt so ashamed in my life. Why? Why was this happening to me? This morning felt so good, dawned so bright and now I about to cry in the back seat of cab heading home. It wasn't even noon yet.  
  
He swept out of the car and through the door leaving me to struggle with the crutch while I paid the cabbie. "Not much, your boyfriend is he?" the cabbie mocked before driving off.  
  
Is that what Sherlock was now? My boyfriend? We'd kissed. Well, technically he had merely kissed me. I had been the one to make the first move and then I pushed him away. I rubbed my eyes on my sleeve and turned to hobble to the door.  
  
I limped up the stairs and sat down in my chair. Sherlock picked up his violin and began to play. I didn't know the tune but it seemed to me sad and lonely and it broke my heart. The tears I held back in the cab threatened to overflow.  
  
"Sherlock…" I muttered. He ignored me and continued playing. I stood up and stumbling made my way over to him, forgetting the crutch. Leaning heavily on my right leg I stood up as straight as I could and grabbed his face and pulled it to mine. The awkward movement he made trying to protect his violin would have made me laugh had I not been so intent on kissing him.  
  
When I finally pulled away, I pressed my forehead to his. "I'm sorry… for everything. For lying to Greg. For pushing you away in the alley. For not enjoying that first kiss. It was so perfect and I ruined it. I'm sorry my mind couldn't handle you looking at my scar. I can't handle anyone looking at it." I turned my head in shame.  
  
His voice was breathless and husky. "Not even Sarah…?"  
  
I shook my head. "None of my girlfriends have seen it. We never got that far to be honest." I looked up into his eyes. Those beautiful pale blue eyes. He gently set down his violin and bow never taking his eyes off me. He lifted up my shirt and let him pull it over my head. My bottom lip trembled as his fingers brushed the scar. His eyes transfixed me.  
  
"Why don't you like people to see it?" I looked away in shame but his other hand grabbed my chin and pulled me back to his eyes.  
  
"It usually only produces one emotion in people. One I don't need." Sherlock looked confused. Right. I thought. He doesn't do emotions very well.  
  
"Pity." The understanding lit up those eyes.  
  
"You want to know what I see when I see this scar?" I nodded or as the best I could with his hand gripping my chin.  
  
"I see the bravery of a man who risked his life for Queen and country. A man who needs excitement, the thrill of the chase. A man who despite everything I threw at you stayed." His lips pressed against mine and I was starting to think that I had never truly been kissed before.  
  
The feeling was electrifying and it sent tingles down my spine. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. He moved a bit away from me and I almost let out a whimper. But he was just unbuttoning his shirt. Wait. What? my mind thought but my heart was the wiser of the two and it told my mind to shut up. I helped remove the shirt by slowly sliding my hands down his arms. He moaned against my lips. Again I pulled him close, reveling in the feeling of his cold skin against my warm body. And as luck would have my leg would chose that moment to give out. Again.  
  
"DAMN MY LEG!" I hollered. Sherlock gripped my elbows. He helped me over to the couch.  
  
"I sorry Sherlock. I want this. I do. But my body has other ideas." Sherlock smiled and then said, "You talk too much." And he began kissing me again. I had to agree with him. Talking was using up time that could be better applied to kissing. His tongue pressed against my lips and gasped to let him in. As his tongue explored my mouth I could feel me get hard.  
  
I had never been with a man and I was almost sure Sherlock hadn't been with anyone at all. I didn't know what to do anymore than he did. His hand unbuckled my belt and I moaned. Next to go was the button and then the zipper. My pants were tightly filled with my expanse and I blushed.  
  
"Sherlock…" I muttered, my breath had gone short with desire. "We… uh… don't…" but I was cut off by his hands grasping the sides of my pants and sliding them off with my jeans. I lay naked underneath him, breathing heavily.  
  
"I want you, John." I kissed his lips and then I looked down. Somehow during the kissing he had managed to divest himself of trousers and pants and his naked body loomed above mine. He was just as aroused as I was.  
  
The next couple hours were spent in bliss. There was some fumbling and mistakes but it was good. Our arms wrapped around each other as we each made the other feel the passion that burned within in us. Panting, we both came and collapsed.  
  
"John?" he murmured into my chest.  
  
"Hmmm…?" I couldn't bother with anything longer than that.  
  
"Do you love me?" I looked down at his curly head, raising and falling with my chest.  
  
I wanted to say 'Of course I do.' But I had the feeling he wanted me to actually say the words.  
  
"Yes, Sherlock. I love you with every fiber of being." He nodded but didn't reply. I wanted to ask him if he felt the same way about me. But I wasn't stupid. I doubted Sherlock even knew what it was he was feeling let alone know how to put them into words.  
  
"I love you, too, John." The words surprised me. But they spread a warm happiness throughout my body.  
  
"Thank you." This caused Sherlock lurch up.  
  
"Why's that?" Confusion colored his tone.  
  
"Because if you hadn't been who you are, today you would not be lying here in my arms after such a delightful experience." He looked into my eyes searching for something, he must have found it because he settled back on my chest.  
  
"I was just trying to comfort you," he muttered regretfully. "I didn't do a very good job."  
  
I struggled to sit up and after a minute or so he let me. I took his hands in mine.  
  
"You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. And you listen good. What happened wasn't your fault. I am ashamed of my scar and it was that shame that brought me to my knees. Literally, to my knees. Usually after these episodes I have nightmares but now I don't care. Not as long as you are in my arms."  
  
I took his face in my hands. "You were doing fine. Feeling your arms around me made me feel safe. Wanted. Loved. Like it was okay to be damaged."  
  
He pull his face away and looked at the floor. "And then I ruined it by kissing you." I grabbed his chin and turned it to face me.  
  
"And if you hadn't we would still be dancing around how I felt about you. I didn't think I was ready to take the next step. To act on my feelings for you. If I ever would. You knowing I liked you that way didn't change the fact that I didn't know if you felt the same."  
  
He looked at me shocked. "But I thought you knew." I looked at him puzzled. "I had been doing what I thought were things that would tell you I loved you." I thought back on the past couple days and realized what he meant. I thought of the concern instead of irritation this morning. I thought of the experiments that were cleaned up by the time I got home. I thought of the violin playing that lulled me to sleep instead of forcing me from it. I thought of the heated looks, the fleeting touches. I blushed in embarrassment.  
  
I kissed his lips. "Forgive me for being so dense?" he nodded shyly. "It's going to take me some time to get over this feeling of resentment and embarrassment about my shoulder. But will you try and be patient with me? I know it's hard for you. But will you try?" Again he nodded.  
  
"Good." I grabbed his hand and led him to his bedroom. I opened the door and bared him down on the soft expanse of the bed. "Now you are going to help me with those nightmares…" I growled.  
  
"How's that?" He asked, playfully.  
  
"By making me far too tired to do anything but sleep." Sherlock rose to the challenge. We spent the next few hours were spent alternating between cuddling and sex. Finally night came and we lay in each others arms.  
  
"What happened with the case?" I asked him drowsily.  
  
"Hrmm?" he muttered almost asleep.  
  
"The case. The one you woke me up for this morning?" He looked down at me and smiled.  
  
"Boring. Accidental drowning." I chuckled sleepily into his chest. I was smiling as I drifted off to sleep.  
  
The next morning I awoke to rain drizzling outside my window. Except something wasn't right I was facing east and that should have been my door. And then I felt something warm against my back. My whole back. I turned around carefully and saw Sherlock sound asleep. His hair had fallen in his face like it had that night he'd come home drunk. What was it? A week ago? This time however I felt no guilt in moving that wayward strand.  
  
I gently brushed it way and kissed my lover's lips softly and then I got up quietly and went to go make tea.  
  
It was almost done when Sherlock burst out of his room clad only his best dressing gown. It was my favorite one. The one that matched his eyes. He looked around and then when saw me standing in the kitchen making tea, he visibly relaxed. He strolled over and kissed me hard on the lips.  
  
"Sherlock… what?" It wasn't that I minded the kiss but the motives behind it worried me a bit.  
  
"I thought you left me…" his voice was raw with emotion.  
  
"Left you? Why on earth…"  
  
"It's what people do, isn't it? Leave after sex?" His eyes were worried. It took me a moment to understand what he was taking about.  
  
"You mean a one night stand?" Sherlock nodded and I kissed him back. "Sherlock, in no way are you or will you ever be a one night stand to me." I don't think he understood as the confusion was still there.  
  
"It's what bad people do when they don't want a relationship. Clearly, that's not me. I love you and I wouldn't be able to live my life without you."  
  
"John…" I placed my finger on his lips.  
  
"Don't say anything. You talk too much…" I kissed him and the tea kettle whistled.  
  
"Sounds like even the tea kettle thinks we're hot…" I told him laughing.  
  
We got our tea and settled on the sofa for some snuggling and the morning news paper. Sherlock was still as fired up as ever about cases and his mind like a racing engine but there would be times after a case where he would cuddle with me on the couch and sleep.  
  
A couple weeks later I received a text message from my sister.  
  
Let's have lunch  -HW  
  
I rolled my eyes. At least she didn't ask me out for drinks.  
  
Fine. When. Where. -JW  
  
Might as well do Speedy's. Tomorrow 11am. -HW  
  
I scowled. I didn't want to have lunch so near home. So near Sherlock, he might come and say something that would send her drinking again. But if they went anywhere else he would follow and it would be worse. Sighing he sent back:  
  
Fine. -JW  
  
He went into into the kitchen to find Sherlock. It was better if he was told. He looked up from his experiment.  
  
"Judging from you sour expression and the phone in your hand that was Harry. What does she want this time?" I relaxed. It was one the few times I appreciated Sherlock deducting my business. It saved me from telling.  
  
"Lunch."  
  
"Ah." He set down the eye dropper and came around to me. "Next door, I'd assume." I nodded. "And you want me to stay out of it…" I looked down in shame.  
  
"John, it's fine anyway my brother wants a little chat for tea as well." I looked up. Uh-oh. It seemed the siblings were on to us. And if they knew who else did?  
  
We spent the night in each others arms almost if we were afraid it was our last day on earth. That morning we got dressed and kissed our goodbyes before opening the door. Sherlock hailed a taxi and I walked the few steps to the cafe and ordered a sandwich and a small coffee while I waited for Harry.  
  
She arrived shortly after I did. She ordered a large coffee and a small salad.  
  
"So what's this about?" I asked her point blank.  
  
"We've got things to talk about."  
  
"What things?" I knew where this was going but I was going to be deliberately obtuse.  
  
"You've been seen!" And then she proceed to tell me about these friends of hers that had gone to a nice Italian restaurant. "And then there was you."  
  
"So…?"  
  
"Having dinner with a man."  
  
"I go out to dinner with Sherlock all the time. So?"  
  
"Kissing, John. She said he was gorgeous. Like a movie star. I've asked this before, have you gone bender?" I blushed.  
  
I stammered a few incoherent sentences before I muttered, "He's very beautiful."  
  
"No!" She exclaimed delightedly.  
  
"Now stop that," I told her, embarrassed.  
  
"Really? You? Since when?" She was giggling and clapping her hands.  
  
I shook my head. "It's weird. It's just different. It's not… men… it's just him." I take a deep breath. "It's only him. And I don't even know what it is. So I'm not broadcasting." I looked down at my hands.  
  
"It's Sherlock, isn't it?" She asked leaning closer to me to whisper in hushed tones. I nodded. She started squealing some more.  
  
"Oh my god! When did this come about?" I told her about the last couple weeks, leaving out the sex of course.  
  
"John, this is fantastic!"  
  
And then we heard a voice above us, "What fantastic?" We look up to see Lestrade standing there looking down at us.  
  
"Johnny here was just telling me about the latest case he and Sherlock were on," Harry said brightly and I mouthed 'thank you' to her. She had finally done something decent in her life.  
  
"Ah yes. Hey John? Have you seen that annoying prick we call your flatmate?" I bit my lip and felt a sharp pain under the table.  
  
"OW!" Lestrade looked over at me confused.  
  
"Your leg hurting you again?" I smiled up at him wanly.  
  
"It acts up from time to time." I glared at Harry but she just smiled at me sweetly. I turned to Lestrade. "But anyway, Sherlock was hauled off to a meeting with Mycroft and knowing the other Holmes he probably has one of those device thingies that block mobile signals."  
  
"Oh right. Then he'll get my messages when he gets done?" I nodded and he wandered off.  
  
"What did you kick me for?" I growled at her.  
  
"Because you looked like you were going to hit him for calling Sherlock a prick," she told me.  
  
"I wasn't. I know Sherlock is a prick. He just happens to be my prick." That sent her into a fit of giggles.  
  
"Oh you know what I mean." I was feeling grumpy.  
  
"Oh come on! I have to tease you a little." I looked up to see Sherlock light out of taxi and a small smile spread across my lips. She looked over her shoulder but by then he was already gone.  
  
"You're thinking about him again aren't you?" I just smiled. I looked at my watch, it was almost one.  
  
"I really should go," I told her. She nodded and then grabbed the check. "This one's on me." It was my turn to nod.  
  
"Bye, Harry." I walked the short distance to my flat and closed and locked the door behind me.  
  
Sherlock looked at me with that expression in his eyes that held disdain. I pulled off my coat and pulled Sherlock's coat off too.  
  
"John we have a case!" I crushed my lips into his.  
  
"I know," I told him when he pushed me off. "I saw Lestrade at the cafe. But it can wait an hour." He stopped and thought about it.  
  
"An hour you say?" I nodded and he dragged me into his bedroom. We spent the next hour showing the other how much we missed them. When we finally got dressed Sherlock backed me up against the door.  
  
"Does Lestrade know about us?" His voice was low and husky.  
  
"Not yet. Harry made up some story when he asked what we'd been talking about."  
  
"So Harry knows and she's not telling?" I nodded. "Fantastic!" I smiled at my love. Oh god I love how good those words sounded in my head. I would have to try them out on my tongue later but right now we had a case.  
  
We heralded a cab and finally made it to the crime scene.  
  
"What the hell have you two been up to?" Lestrade growled. "You said you would be here an hour ago."  
  
I could see the wheels turn in Sherlock's head as he was making up a lie. But I grabbed Sherlock's face and as pulled it to mine I said "Oh something like this!" And I planted one on him in front of everyone. Lestrade, Donavan, Anderson. The whole lot of them. At first Sherlock was surprised and then he wrapped his arms around me and returned the kiss.  
  
This was us coming out as couple and I wanted to make up for all the hurt I caused with that first kiss.  
  
"My love," I said so everyone one could hear me.  
  
"I thought you didn't want anyone to know about us," he breathed.  
  
"I don't care. I figured if Harry knew, Mycroft knew and if Mycroft knew Greg would find out eventually. And I just decided to skip all the gossip and rumors and go straight for 'us'." Sherlock smiled down out me. I heard a cough and I looked up.  
  
"This is all well and good but this is a crime scene." Lestrade was smiling though, which was more than what could be said about Donavan and Anderson. They looked as they had been hit with a lorry. Sherlock noted their reaction and said "I love you."  
  
He gave me quick peck on the cheek and then took my hand and led me over to the crime scene.  
  
Donavan hissed "Freak!" at both of us but we just laughed.  
  
"At least we weren't having an affair." I sniped back. Their combined shocked expressions were priceless.  
  
So there we were standing over a dead body, holding hands and giggling like children. And there had never been more right in the world than just then. Sherlock would catch the killers and the victim would be avenged. And that's how it was suppose to be.


End file.
